Edselian rhapsody

I cannot create vultures that eat
flowers in a blood love Monday
nor the swarming innocence of
swimming fishes over the
proverbial clouds of a
grief stricken heart

what i have is the recursing
song of a loyal and wounded
rosary
every rough-scratched beaten
bead is a letter of your name,
sharp, stingy and always
hurting

painfully recited in the absence
of words, fervently prayed
in the presence
of pain
it brings me an inch away
in the choir of tireless angels
while my left foot is chained
on the pit's gate

this does not happen always
though
there are times when you
shower me with illusions,
sweet euphoric illusions
boxed in syrupy milk
dressed in mallows and
chocolates

these are the times when
neither day or night
could remember
moments borrowed on
hollow cheeks of the unseen,
seconds leaking in
chaotic sequence

i see you now
i do not see anything else
not the volumed colors of
gray and gray-white world
nor the ocean of
faces drowning my wretched soul

i feel you now
not a hush nor a breath
but i feel you
you are in my fat-clogged veins
flowing in rich carbon-abundant
manner, racing and pumping
my weak idiotic heart

i think i hear you
even in the silence of a windless
night, as if your name is
spoken by homeless crickets
marching in futility

i think i know you now
you are my pain and my joy
my Odyssey begins at your
sharp fingertips and ends
in the desert taste of your
blood-stained lips

you are my Delilah
my (Marilyn) Monroe
ever sweet yet equally fatal
you break me at the gentlest
of your touch and burn me
in your flaming kisses
and i submit in your commanding
arms

ah... the morning came uninvited
perchy like a busy buzzy bee
the child in me, naked
singing the absurdity and
hopelessness of a dreamy rhapsody

it never end though..
it never end.